


Wizard's Guide to Jell-O Wrestling

by Rensong



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Crack, Gen, Humor
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2006-05-11
Updated: 2006-05-11
Packaged: 2017-10-24 13:56:23
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,138
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/264216
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rensong/pseuds/Rensong
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A disagreement on Jell-O flavor turns messy</p>
            </blockquote>





	Wizard's Guide to Jell-O Wrestling

**Author's Note:**

> _Once upon a time, years and years ago (2004, I think), I was talking to a good friend of mine on AIM who was reading a particular Harry Potter fan fiction. She did the "LOL" thing as "loud" as one can virtually, and as she's not one to use that particular abbreviation often, I asked her what was so funny. She then proceeded to copy and paste the line she just read into the AIM window. I won't post it here because I don't know who wrote it and I don't want to do any copyright toe-treading, but suffice to say it was about Death Eaters always bringing potato salad to their carry-in/potluck meetings, except for Malfoy, who brought Jell-O._
> 
>  _Somewhere along the way, our conversation digressed into Harry Potter Jell-O wrestling, later on with potato salad thrown into the mix. And lo, a Harry Potter Crack Fic was born._
> 
>  _Also, I had been watching an awful lot of Queer Eye for the Straight Guy at the time, hence what I did to Voldemort._
> 
>  _Lastly - Snape, I am *so* so sorry!_

The day had taken a dramatic (yet highly entertaining) turn for the worst. What had started out as the normal enough (or as normal as anything coming from Hogwarts can get) school-wide picnic Dumbledore insisted on having every spring, ended with two teachers, several students, a dark lord, and one decidedly unlucky giant squid covered with an assortment of fruit-filled jellies and homemade potato salad.

It was no secret that the ever-growing conflict between Draco and Harry had been getting worse as of late, but no one ever even *considered* that the rivalry could come to such drastic heights. But when Harry showed up to the picnic with a blue-raspberry jelly mould to share, and Draco came with his lime-and-gelatin creation – both of whom were absolutely certain that their flavor was the best – the conflict reached breaking point.

Both of the poor, helpless side dishes went flying as the two teenagers launched themselves at each other, the blue one partially hitting the unfortunate Professor McGonagall while the rest of it flew over her shoulder to splat against the giant squid (where it had been laying in the shallows observing the events at the invitation of Hagrid), and the green one landing squarely on the head of a very un-amused Snape (at least the green suited him). The two boys, heedless of anything except how much damage they could do to each other in the shortest amount of time, carelessly rolled into the legs of the flimsy card table which held the rest of the desserts, knocking it and it’s contents (in this case, several more jelly moulds... You’d think wizards would be more creative) onto themselves and the ground around them.

It was at this time that Lord Voldemort, who had been closely watching the festivities (who *wouldn’t* want to watch two pretty boys wrestling in a pile of jelly?) from a distance, took advantage of the distraction the unplanned Jelly Wrestling match created. While Lee Jordan started a running commentary on the event (“It’s Potter with the upper hand now, pinning Malfoy in a choke-hold straight from the Muggle cable television sensation WWF RAW and – *OUCH*! Potter gets some lemon jelly right to the eyes! That has got to hurt... You won’t see this in Defense Against the Dark Arts, folks, that’s for sure...”), and Padame Patil (the Vixen! Never can tell with those Ravenclaws) collecting bets as to see who would come out on top in the match, Voldemort used the distraction to slip unnoticed into the buffet table line, trying to replace one of the hot dishes with his special-recipe German Potato Salad. It contained a potion he, himself, had created, which had effects similar to those of the Imperio curse, making anyone who consumed it more susceptible to becoming one of his Death Eaters (and he had his hopes on that blond bombshell Draco... Can we say YUM!? I mean, he was already halfway there with his whole traitorous family genes, how hard could it be?) Voldemort was quite proud of his little concoction, too. Anyone who could make German Potato Salad taste good *and* control the minds of his enemy at the same time deserved a metal, or so he told anyone who ever asked about the recipe.

However, even an evil mastermind and extraordinary cook like himself can make mistakes, and today that mistake was to wear his new designer boots with 5 centimeter heels underneath his over-long silk robe of a burnt amber. As if the robe by itself wasn’t all “Hell-o, look at the diva!” (even if it was a *smashing* color on him), he just had to step on the hem of it with those bloody boots and trip, falling face first in the beef stroganoff while his beloved potato salad went sailing through the air, baptizing anyone in its path with potatoes and mayonnaise - including Harry and Draco on the ground where they continued to try and convince each other of the better jelly flavor using their fists, and Professor Snape as the now half empty bowl landed upside down over his head as if drawn there by some gravitational force. Little pieces of sliced potato and hard-boiled egg joined the pieces of lime and green gel already dripping from his hair and nose as the now totally empty bowl fell from his head and onto the ground with a hallow thunk.

The frown on the man’s face was so large it looked as if it would decapitate his head from his body, so it wasn’t surprising when his outrageous squawk of “THAT IS ENOUGH!” was loud enough not only to make the giant squid - who was still trying to get the sticky blue jelly from his suckers - do his own version of a startled jump (or in this case, a startled squish), it was also enough to grab the attention of the two otherwise oblivious (and equally as goo-covered) teens fighting at his feet. He reached down to forcefully separate the boys, shoving them so hard into the surrounding crowd that each was air-born for a moment, before he reached to pull Diva Dark Lord out of the beefy side dish by the back of his flamboyant feather-ringed collar and then throwing him into an ungraceful, stroganoff-covered, burnt-amber heap at Dumbledore’s feet.

“You,” he pointed a jelly smeared finger at Dumbledore, then jabbed it at Voldemort, “Do something with *that*. YOU!” he screamed, turning to direct his angry finger-pointing at the two boys and glaring daggers at both Harry and Draco, “CLEAN UP THIS BLOODY MESS!”

Then he turned one last time to face the crowd between him and Hogwarts, Finger of Doom still a-waving. “And YOU,” he directed his scorn at one of the innocent bystanders. Cringing away from his angry professor, the poor second year was shaking so much that the bits of potato salad also splattered his robes plopped to the ground. “Get *OUT* of my BLOODY WAY!!!” Snape finally finished, shoving his way through the crowd. Anyone unlucky enough to be caught in his vengeful glare visibly shrank away from the Pissed Off Potion Master - striking fear into the hearts of his students even in his current jelly and potato-salad covered state - as he stalked toward the school.

“AND STRAWBERRY IS THE BEST BLOODY JELLY FLAVOR!” Snape screamed over his shoulder once he broke free of the gathered students and teachers, leaving a trail of green jelly and potatoes in his wake.

The entire school stood in sticky, silent shock as they watched their Potions Professor stomp his way back towards Hogwarts. Finally, however, a single voice broke the silence.

“Blimey,” said Ron Weasley from where he stood between a dumbfounded Hermione and The Boy Who Had A Piece of Pineapple In His Hair. “I always pictured him as the sour apple type.”


End file.
